Dan Sharp Mysteries 2-Book Bundle. Jeffrey RoundЧитать онлайн книгу.
and anterooms had also been checked. Authorities were notified of the disappearance, and a search-and-rescue team from Trenton was called out. Within fifteen minutes a helicopter could be heard sweeping overhead, its searchlight mapping the waves. A local volunteer crew had already formed. A dozen small craft operators were patrolling the darkened waters of the bay, looking for signs of struggle or movement.
The ship docked at Glenora and the guests filed off in a light drizzle. Officers from the Picton OPP detachment met them onshore. They listened as Thom explained how Daniella had fallen from an upper deck.
Sebastiano stood to one side, rocking and shivering. “Why did we come to this awful country?” he moaned. Dan thought of the Serbian boy who’d come to Canada and ended up in a ravine with gunshot wounds to his head.
An EMS vehicle stood onshore, its lights flashing silently while figures moved about in the rain. Dan’s name rang a bell with one of the questioning officers. “We never met, but we worked together on a case once,” the man said, squinting at him in the lantern light. “You helped us locate a woman named Sarah McNeill. I’m Detective Constable Peter Saylor.”
They shook. The officer looked at Sebastiano and motioned Dan over for a private word. “Do you think she’s done a runner? You weren’t far from shore. She’s a visitor, right? Some guy’s sister? Maybe she wanted to stay.”
Dan shook his head. “I doubt it. She came for her brother’s wedding. They’re from Brazil, not Cuba. I overheard him say she couldn’t swim.”
The officer took a deep breath. “That’s rough,” he said. “I guess if she’s out there, we’ll find her.” He let Dan through and nodded to the next in line.
Bill was waiting in the car. He stared straight ahead. Dan got into the driver’s seat without a word. The silence stretched taut between them.
“I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” Bill said finally.
Dan shook his head. “It’s not important.”
Bill nodded. “I spoke to Thom. He’d like us to stay at the house tonight. If you don’t mind, we’ll go back there.”
“Of course. Whatever he needs.”
Trevor opened the door for them. He looked at Dan. “I persuaded Aunt Lucille to go to bed,” he said. “She didn’t want to, but she was quite shaken. I’ve just been sitting here feeling useless. Is there anything I can do?”
“Not that I know of,” Dan said. “Ted took Jezebel home. She was pretty shaken too. I don’t know when Thom and Sebastiano will be back. They wanted to stay to see if the patrol boats turned anything up.”
They spoke in subdued voices. It seemed possible that if they were gentle and kind enough, the night’s events might unfold in a more optimistic manner, that the outcome might not be as dark and dire as it seemed at that moment.
Without waiting to be asked, Bill poured everyone a drink. They made desultory conversation for another hour. At three o’clock, Trevor went up to his room. Thom and Sebastiano arrived looking grim-faced an hour later. Sebastiano resisted all efforts to console him.
“Bloody awful business,” Thom murmured, his hand on Sebastiano’s shoulder.
“Give him these,” Bill said, placing something in Thom’s hand. Thom looked down at the pink pills. “I’ve got more, if you want any yourself.”
Thom took Sebastiano upstairs and returned twenty minutes later. “He’s asleep,” he said.
“How was he?” Dan said.
“As you saw — a mess. The only thing I could get out of him is that he wants to go back to Brazil immediately. I can’t talk him out of it.”
Bill nodded knowingly. “Leave it for now. He’ll be calmer tomorrow.”
Thom lit a fire to distract himself. Bill poured him a drink. Thom sat on the sofa, his hand playing absently with the polished curve of the arm. Bill tried to reassure him that Daniella would turn up. Thom nodded distractedly, only half-listening. Eventually they turned the conversation away from the events of the evening, anxious for the consolation news of things that had nothing to do with them might bring. Thom assured them there was nothing they could do for him. They said goodnight.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, waving them away.
Upstairs, Dan lay on the bed fully dressed, staring at the blackness outside. The shimmering urgency of fear had drained away, leaving an empty calm, the bone white shock of lightning that reveals the world in negative for an instant before snapping off again. He dropped off to sleep just before five. He wasn’t sure when Bill slept or if he did.
Morning brought a return of the mist, a dull grey haze settling over everything. The call came just past seven. An officer from the Picton OPP told Thom they’d recovered the body of a young woman just before six thirty that morning. He asked them to come to the morgue as soon as possible.
Someone had made coffee. Dan grabbed a cup and went out to bring the car around. Bill got in the front with him. Thom emerged with Sebastiano, and the pair slid silently into the back. The boy’s face was grey, his eyes glassy. Even his cheeks seemed sunken. Dan glanced in the mirror. He recognized the look. He’d seen bereaved clients with that haunted glaze compounded of sickness and misery.
They endured the ferry crossing in silence. The blue water took on an ugly sheen; distant sails raised in joyous furls seemed an insult to them. The ride to town took forever. At the hospital, Thom got out first and went around to help his husband, but Sebastiano refused to leave the car. He sat with his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. “I don’t want to go,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“You have to come,” Thom insisted. “They’ll need you to identify her.”
The boy shook his head. “I can’t.”
Thom looked grim. “They need you, Seb.”
Sebastiano glared. “I hate you!” He pounded his fist against the door. “I hate you! How could you do this to us?”
Thom shook him by the shoulders. “I didn’t do anything. I told you not to bring her.” He looked around at the others. “I didn’t want her here.”
Sebastiano turned away, sobbing against the seat.
“Thom,” Bill said. “Leave him.” Thom jerked his head around at the sound of Bill’s voice. “Let’s go in. It might not even be her.”
Thom nodded. “You’re right.”
The hospital was small, red brick-efficient. It had been erected in the eighties and outfitted with hanging plants to allay the severity of the exterior. They were joined by Constable Saylor, the officer who’d recognized Dan’s name the night before. Still fresh-faced and earnest. Eager and correct. They followed an assistant to an alcove lit by a rack of fluorescence where all the warmth had been sucked out of the room. A burnt smell hung in the air.
A modest shape lay beneath a sheet, a bulge concealed beneath a mound of fresh snow. It scarcely seemed possible that something as momentous as death lay before them. Dan thought of the lamb and goat corpses in the butcher’s window on the Danforth. Even they had seemed more imposing, more noteworthy somehow. The officer pulled the sheet down to reveal first the head — lips blue, skin grey, as though she’d been embalmed already — then further down. It seemed needlessly cruel to expose her like this under the harsh glare.
For a moment, Dan doubted it was Daniella. The body was so bloated, it seemed as though it might have been someone else, one of the countless nameless faces in the Doe files. Dan stepped forward in disbelief, ready to proclaim it a case of mistaken identity. Looking closely, however, he realized he was staring at Sebastiano’s sister. That was clearly her hair, now damp and dishevelled, those the fingers that had pawed his chest only hours ago.
Thom made a small choking noise. He reached out and touched a wall, as though he might faint. Bill and Dan were